Page 93 of Boots & Scars

"Yes," Mom whispered, her own eyes filling with unshed tears. "He chose her over us."

The room felt suddenly too small, the air too thick to breathe. The life I'd known was crumbling around me, piece by painful piece.

"And… and he was okay to just… to never have anything to do with me?" My voice trembled as I stood there, feeling a fresh wave of betrayal wash over me. "Why… why would you do that? Why keep me from him?"

Mom's eyes softened, but her words were a sharp knife. "I didn't want you hurt," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I didn't want you to know your father was capable of something so cruel. I'd rather you remember him as the man Iknew before… before her. And this way, you wouldn't have to interact with her family."

"You mean her sons?" I shot back, the bitterness in my voice palpable.

Mom's gaze faltered, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I don't regret that," she said firmly. "They're monsters, both of them."

"Maybe because their family fell apart because of the same scandal you completely lied to me about," I countered, my anger boiling over. I winced at a flare of pain. "You don't know what it's like, telling people how my dad is dead. I'm a fool, Mom. Because of you?—"

"I did it for your own good," she interrupted, desperation creeping into her voice.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You did this foryourown good. I know it's hard, and it's scary dealing with pain. Trust me, I've had my share in the last week. But lying to me for your own good? You can't do that, Mom. Life deals us cards; we get to decide how we play them. But you made those decisions for me. I never got the chance."

"Who knows who you'd have been if you grew up with your father," she said softly, almost as if trying to convince herself.

"I don't know," I replied, my voice raw with emotion. "But I would have liked to have found out." The realization hit me hard as I looked at her—my entire childhood framed by her decisions. "That's why you homeschooled me? So I wouldn't find out?" The pieces clicked into place painfully.

"So you wouldn't have to deal with the scandal," Mom pointed out defensively. "You don't know what it was like—the whispers, the gossip. I didn't want you to endure that."

"I didn't," I said bitterly. "I didn't endure anything because of you."

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, eyes searching mine for something—anything—that might offer a way out.

"I want you to acknowledge that what you did was wrong," I said, my tone firm despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "And I want an apology for what you called Cooper and Damien Sinclaire. They aren't monsters."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I met Cooper," I replied, the words hanging heavy in the air. "He saved me."

Mom clutched her pearl necklace, her fingers trembling against the smooth beads. "Did you hear what he?—"

"I'm in love with him, Mom," I interrupted, my voice breaking slightly but resolute.

"Don't joke," she said, her eyes widening in shock.

"I'm not," I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "I don't think he loves me, but I love him." The admission felt like tearing off a bandage—painful but necessary.

"You don't know what love is."

"And who's fault is that?" I clenched my teeth together. "I'm getting really sick and tired of people telling me how I feel. Whether you accept it or not, fine. But I love him, Mom. Because he deserves love. Because he's the best man I know. And that's not going to change." I sucked in a breath.

Her eyes filled with worry. "You're not going to do anything with Cooper Sinclaire, are you?"

I met her gaze squarely. "Mom, I'd marry him right now if he asked me."

"You don't know what you're talking about.”

"Actually, I know exactly what I'm talking about," I replied, my voice steady. "And if you can't accept that, you can leave."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You're not serious."

"For once in my life, I'm making my own choices," I said firmly. "And I choose him. I'll always choose him. You can accept that or not, but if you don't, I'd like you to leave."

Mom's jaw tightened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I can't accept that," she said through gritted teeth. "He's Mary's son?—"

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